“No, I don’t often wear them. I am not very fond of looking through them. But sometimes an irresistible necessity compels me to put them on, and I cannot help seeing.” Titbottom sighed. “Is it so grievous a fate, to see?” inquired I. “Yes; through my spectacles,” he said, turning slowly and looking at me with wan solemnity. It grew dark as we stood in the office talking, and taking our hats we went out together. The narrow street of business was deserted. The heavy iron shutters were gloomily closed over the windows. From one or two offices struggled the dim gleam of an early candle, by whose light some perplexed accountant sat belated, and hunting for his error. A careless clerk passed, whistling. But the great tide of life had ebbed. We heard its roar far away, and the sound stole into that silent street like the murmur of the ocean into an inland dell. “You will come and dine with us, Titbottom?” He assented by continuing to walk with me, and I think we were both glad when we reached the house, and Prue came to meet us, saying: “Do you know I hoped you would bring Mr. Titbottom to dine?” Titbottom smiled gently, and answered: “He might have brought his spectacles with him, and I have been a happier man for it.” Prue looked a little puzzled. “My dear,” I said, “you must know that our friend, Mr. Titbottom, is the happy possessor of a pair of wonderful spectacles. I have never seen them, indeed; and, from what he says, I should be rather afraid of being seen by them. Most short-sighted persons are very glad to have the help of glasses; but Mr. Titbottom seems to find very little pleasure in his.” “It is because they make him too far-sighted, perhaps,” interrupted Prue quietly, as she took the silver soup-ladle from the sideboard. We sipped our wine after dinner, and Prue took her work. Can a man be too far-sighted? I did not ask the question aloud. The very tone in which Prue had spoken convinced me that he might. “At least,” I said, “Mr. Titbottom will not refuse to tell us the history of his mysterious spectacles. I have known plenty of magic in eyes”—and I glanced at the tender blue eyes of Prue—“but I have not heard of any enchanted glasses.” “Yet you must have seen the glass in which your wife looks every morning, and I take it that glass must be daily enchanted.” said Titbottom, with a bow of quaint respect to my wife. I do not think I have seen such a blush upon Prue’s cheek since—well, since a great many years ago.